Clean
by pickalily
Summary: He grumbled and grumbled and scrubbed and scrubbed. He'd never be clean of this filth.
It seems like it's the tenth time that day that he's busy scrubbing away at his hands. He's taken three showers, washed his clothes twice, cleaned every nook and cranny of the castle, but he can't seem to wash away the layers of dirt and blood that cling to him. He's lathering on more soap when he hears her voice, feels her hand brush his cheek and it takes everything in his power not to wince, not to shove her hand away, not to shout at her to just stay the fuck away from him. But he doesn't. He lets her brush the back of her hand against his cheek, looking at him lovingly with the same grey eyes he had inherited from her.

"Levi, darling," she says in the soft, soothing voice he always remembered. It hasn't changed one bit from when he was a child, when she'd whisper stories to him in the dark until he fell asleep. He's doing everything he can to keep his eyes from straying to her but he can still see her from his peripheral vision and she looks just as she does before she got sick, before she died. Her hair is silky and black, her skin pale, her eyes a stormy grey, and she is beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, like all of the strange men who came to visit her in the night said she was. "Remember to clean under your fingernails too. You know how important it is to your mother to stay clean. You're so dirty, Levi."

He wants to tell her she's dead but he grits his teeth instead and scrubs harder, getting underneath his fingernails even though he had made sure there was no more dirt under them hours ago. She's there next to him, leaning against the counter and watching him wash his hands. He can smell his mother's scent, something light and floral, and he tells himself he's crazy. There's no way she's here. It's a hallucination like it always is, he tells himself, but it's hard for him to believe that when he can see her face, when he can hear her voice. He continues to wash his hands, hoping that if he cleans them well enough she'll be satisfied and leave. It takes a couple of minutes but she leaves eventually, leaning over to give him a ghost of a kiss on his cheek and disappearing just as suddenly as she came.

Levi's about to let out a sigh and turn off the faucet but then another voice speaks up.

"Aniki, you're not usually this sloppy about keeping clean," a voice pipes up and he recognizes it right away.

"Have we been gone that long?" another voice chuckles. "You've gotten lazy, Levi."

To his left is Isabel, her vibrant, red hair tied up into those familiar pigtails. She's as lively as ever, grinning at him with that stupidly childish grin. Once his mouth would have twitched upwards just seeing that stupid smile but now it only made him feel like breaking something. She wasn't supposed to be haunting him like this, taunting him with her smile like she was still alive, she was supposed to be dead and buried in the ground along with Farlan.

But Farlan isn't where he's supposed to be either. He's standing at Levi's right, watching the captain scrub away at his hands furiously. There was an amused smirk on his face and Levi hated it. "I think you missed a spot, Levi," he teased, pointing at Levi's hand. Levi might be half-imagining the new red splotch on his hand, dark like blood. He could have sworn that it wasn't there before.

"Shut the fuck up," Levi muttered to his old friends and the only laugh, an old sound he never though he'd hear again. Maybe he should have been happy to be able to see his friends again, even if they were ghosts of their old selves, but he was far from it and wanted them gone, goddamn. Why couldn't they leave him alone?

They stay longer than his mother did, pointing out bits of grime and blood he had somehow missed. It was strange. He was usually so particular about keeping his hands clean. How could he have missed all of this disgusting filth before?

They finally leave and relief washes over him when he hears more voices and he feels his entire body freeze.

"I didn't think you would have ever been content with the castle in such a messy state. Have you taken a look at the chandeliers? Cobwebs everywhere," Erd said, shaking his head. "Maybe we can clean those up for you."

 _You can't. You're dead,_ Levi wants to snarl at him. _Now leave me the fuck alone._ But he doesn't.

"Maybe you should rest, Captain," Gunther suggests, a hand resting on Levi's shoulder and the captain can't help but flinch. "A man can't expect to clean this whole castle by himself after all."

Auruo snorts. "Speak for yourself, Schultz. I can clean this place up by myself in no time."

Levi shuts his eyes and tries to block out their playful banter. He focuses on the sound of the running water from the sink and it's drowning out their voices. He can probably keep this up until they go away. It'll be only a few more minutes, he prays. They'll leave soon. They have to.

A hand rests on his shoulder. Ginger hair brushes his cheek. "Oh, Levi," a familiar voices breathes. "There's so much blood."

He knows he shouldn't but he opens his eyes anyway and there's Petra, wide-eyed and staring at his hands. He follows her gaze to his hands and he sees it too, all of this blood staining his hands. It has painted his hands bright red.

"I don't think it'll ever come out," she says to him. She rests her head on his shoulder and looks at his hands sadly. And he normally would have found that comforting, her head on his shoulder, but this time he didn't because the last time he saw her, her broken body was being trampled by one of those disgusting titans.

"Petra, you're not supposed to be here," he says weakly, but he can't tear his eyes away from her. He doesn't know if he wants her to leave or stay.

"Well, obviously you need us here with you, Captain," says Erd. "The place has gotten so messy without us."

"Just leave it to us, Captain Levi," Gunter says, saluting him with his fist clenched over his heart.

"It's not a problem, sir," Auruo said, running his hand through his hair. "Cleaning will be a cinch for us."

"Shut up," he hisses and their smiling faces falter and begin to fade. "Just shut up, shut up, shut up. Shut the fuck up and get the fuck out. You're not supposed to be here, any of you. You guys are dead." His eyes are shut and his voice is raised in anger. He doesn't want to open his eyes in case they're still there.

There's a tentative tap on his shoulder. "Captain Levi," a voice says quietly.

He knows that voice. It's a real voice. Not the voice of a ghost like the ones before. It's Eren, who is alive and not haunting him, so he opens his eyes warily and wonders how much of his crazed outburst the poor kid has witnessed. "What is it, kid?"

"Your hands, sir," Eren answers nervously. He looks at his captain's hands, still dripping over the sink. "I think they're clean, sir. I don't think you should wash them anymore."

Levi looks at the palms of his hands. They're raw and red from all of his furious scrubbing, nearly bleeding from all of his obsessive washing. He shuts off the faucet promptly and stiffly nods at the young soldier. "I suppose you're right, Jaeger," Levi says, clearing his throat. "We'll be training soon. Go down to the training grounds first and warm up. I'll be there in a bit."

"Yes, sir!" Eren says and gives him a salute.

Levi watches the child as he swiftly runs out of the room all the while thinking about how wrong Eren was. His hands would never be clean. Even now he could feel the filth on his hands. Petra was right. He'd never get the blood – their blood – off of his hands.

* * *

 _A/N: I'll be gone for a while but, here, have some angst while I'm away!_


End file.
